“I’m doing you a favor, Marnie. The accident wasn’t Ashe’s fault. Or mine. But it’s unfair to all of us to be constantly reminded of what could have been. Don’t you think?”

My shoulders slump. It’s a point I cannot argue. Even so, Ashe gets to go on with his perfect life while Cora writes the narrative for mine. This is what loving her son cost me?

“I’m being generous here.” She pushes the envelope and the business card to the very edge of the table.

Many things happen at once: my hackles rising, my hands fisting under my thighs, her belittlement stinging, and the full reality of my situation setting in. My anger kickstarts my brain into a tornado frenzy, whipped up by her condescension and kept quiet only by my keen survivalist instincts.

I have been reduced to whatever’s in that envelope.

Amid the intense stare-down between us, I tally up The Things Marnie Lost in the Accident.

A car.

A wedding.

A uterus.

Ashe.

My career at Sunny’s.

My work family.

My almost-family.

My love and respect for the Sullivans.

But I haven’t lost me.

If anything, my identity solidifies through this series of unfair events. In my anger, a brilliant vision of the future forms. Me, taking my non-degreed self somewhere else, becoming a tremendous success, and making them regret this day. Somehow.

It’s a pipe dream, a fantasy. But it’s what I need to believe in now.

I decide this is my defining moment. Not the accident. Not becoming barren. Not losing Ashe. Not getting fired. But this. This beautiful clarity and confidence she’s inspired. Me taking back control of my life rather than being someone else’s puppet or plaything or breeder.

They won’t see me break. I don’t break. I bend. I have built my life from nothing. I’ll rebuild it even stronger. They have not seen the last of me.

A survivalist never refuses a check. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me open it. No matter how much it is, it’s not enough.

Taking the check means agreeing to keep my silence—I know that, too.

“I have one condition,” I say. “Promise me, no lawsuits against Grady.”

She guffaws. “Why not? Do you realize how much he’s cost us? What he’s cost you? He’s ruined your life.”

“No, he saved me from a weak husband and a fake family that could never love me the way I deserve—unconditionally,” I bite back. “I owe him. Promise me no lawsuits against Grady Tripp, or I’ll take this severance to the nearest lawyer as a retainer and file one against you, your family, and Sunny’s for wrongful termination and discrimination.”